


you won't remember this

by onakissgodknows



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Chicago Cubs, Excessive Drinking, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 04:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13240110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onakissgodknows/pseuds/onakissgodknows
Summary: Prompt: “You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?”





	you won't remember this

**Author's Note:**

> I got this prompt on tumblr and the fic got a bit longer than I intended but hey, nobody cares, right? RIGHT? I also couldn't include the exact prompt, but I twisted the words enough to fit the fic while also fitting what the prompt gave me. 
> 
> Prompt: “You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?”

The start of the All-Star break coupled with a demoralizing loss is a perfect storm for the Chicago Cubs. Not an All-Star among the defending World Champions this year, somebody in the locker room has the idea that tonight would be a great night for everybody to go out and get, well, _absolutely fucking demolished_ is the phrase Kris would use.

Kris isn’t a drinker, but he dutifully follows his teammates to the bar and then to a club, until Anthony can barely stand on his own two feet and Kyle Schwarber, who’s had nearly as much as Anthony, half-drags, half-carries Anthony over to where Kris is and deposits him in the chair next to him.

Kris starts to say something to Kyle but Kyle is already gone by the time he opens his mouth, so he turns to the swaying, bleary-eyed man sitting next to him. “Kyle’ll be okay,” Anthony slurs.

Kris raises his eyebrows. “I’m more worried about you.” He sips his water and pokes at the remnants of the nachos he bought to feel like less of an ass for not ordering a drink. “You’ve had a few tonight, huh?”

Anthony laughs and smacks Kris on the arm, probably harder than he would have sober. “Just a few. ‘M okay, KB, don’t freak out.”

Kris shrugs. “I’m not freaking out.”

“Jus’ felt like shit after the game today, y’know?” Anthony rests both elbows on the table, trying to support his head in his hands. “We – we’re a shit team right now. I feel like – “ He stops, placing a hand over his mouth. He looks pale.

“Okay,” Kris says, getting to his feet. “We’re leaving.”

“C’mon, Kris,” Anthony pleads. “I’m okay, really, we gotta – “

“We gotta go,” Kris says. He scans the crowd for any of his other teammates as he drags Anthony to the door. He finally finds Javy, who’s also out-of-his-mind drunk, but he manages to get Javy to understand that he’s taking Anthony home, and makes him promise that he’ll let Kris know when everyone else leaves safely.

They get an Uber and Anthony’s heavy body leans against Kris’s on the way back to Kris’s apartment. Anthony seems to have fought off his upchuck reflex for the time being, his breath hot on Kris’s neck. Somehow, the Uber driver doesn’t seem to recognize them and drops them at Kris’s apartment without a second glance.

Anthony is still drunk and still looks like he could puke at any second, so Kris pulls his arm around his shoulders and hustles him into the apartment as quick as he can.

Anthony staggers into the bathroom as soon as they get through the door. “There’s mouthwash in the cabinet,” Kris calls after him, and wonders what the hell Anthony drank. Not that Kris knows anything about alcohol.  

Anthony emerges a few minutes later, looking a little more sober and a little more embarrassed. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly, and throws himself onto the couch next to Kris.

Kris waves a hand. “It’s okay. I’m used to it.” Being the only person who doesn’t drink means he usually ends up being the one to help the drunkest of his friends home.

“Nah, I mean,” Anthony’s breathing on his neck again, because Anthony has no sense of personal space sober, let alone drunk, “sorry I said we’re shit. We’re not a shit team. We – we _are_ good, y’know?”

Kris can’t help laughing out loud at Anthony repeating, with absolute sincerity, the phrase that has become something of a rallying cry amongst Cubs fans and the team itself over the past couple of years. “Yeah. Yeah, Rizz, we are good.” He’s grinning like an idiot, because Anthony is so corny and he knows he’s not even trying to be, but that’s Rizzo. All heart.

“ _You’re_ good,” Anthony insists, leaning heavily against Kris the way he did in the Uber on the way home. “You’re _so_ good. You don’t even _drink_ , you’re so good.” It’s the kind of thing Anthony usually says accompanied by a laugh and a pound on the back, giving Kris a hard time, but he doesn’t now.

Kris rolls his eyes. “C’mon.”

Anthony punches him, lightly, three times in the arm, making this feel more like dugout shenanigans again. “Too good sometimes,” he teases.

“Good news for you,” Kris says, teasing him back. “Or I’d have left your drunk ass at the club.”

Anthony’s hand finds Kris’s chin, turns his face so he’s meeting Anthony’s eyes. Anthony’s hazy, unfocused, still-drunk eyes. “I’m glad you didn’t.” Then, suddenly, Anthony’s mouth is on his and Kris is – okay, he’s kissing him back and Anthony’s mouth tastes like mint and his lips are soft and his cheeks are scratchy with stubble, and Anthony is very drunk and this is wrong.

Kris pulls away, taking Anthony’s hands – one was on Kris’s face, the other on his waist – and gently pushes them away from him, like he’s giving Anthony his hands back. “Anthony, don’t.”

“Shit,” Anthony says. “Shit, I’m sorry, I thought you – “

Kris gets up and goes down the hall to the linen closet. He starts pulling out sheets and pillows. “The couch pulls out,” he says without looking at Anthony.  

“Kris, I thought you wanted – “

Of course he does. Of course he wants Anthony, but not like this. Not with Anthony too drunk to remember anything, not because they lost today and they’re trying to feel better. “Rizz, I don’t know who wouldn’t want you,” he blurts out, because Anthony won’t remember this. “You’re….” He trails off because he doesn’t know what to say to him. Anthony Rizzo is charismatic, charming, down-to-earth, he’s been good to Kris since Kris was a rookie and he didn’t _have_ to be that kind. Everything the team has accomplished, everything Kris has accomplished wouldn’t have been possible without Anthony. Sometimes Kris doesn’t know who loves Anthony more, the city of Chicago or, well, Kris. “You’re you,” he finally says.

“And you’re Kris fuckin’ Bryant,” Anthony says from the couch. “I guess I should have figured….” He doesn’t complete the sentence, and Kris doesn’t ask him to.

Kris comes back into the living room with an armful of sheets. “You should sleep here. I don’t want you trying to go home tonight.”

“You’re so good,” Anthony mutters again, almost more to himself.

Kris sighs. “And you won’t remember this.” He wants to touch Anthony’s face again, reassure him that a rejection now doesn’t mean a rejection forever, but there isn’t much of a point. Anthony won’t remember.

He nudges Anthony off the couch and haphazardly makes up the bed so Anthony has somewhere to sleep. In the morning it’ll be like this never happened.

As Kris turns to go to his bedroom, Anthony catches him by the hand. “Thanks, man. For all this. And sorry about….sorry. Sorry.”

Kris sighs, again, without looking over his shoulder at him. “Don’t be sorry about it,” he says quickly, before he can stop himself, and just because Anthony won’t remember. “It was – it was a good kiss.” It wasn’t, really, but he can’t blame Anthony for that. He squeezes Anthony’s hand and lets go.

xxx

Anthony is gone when Kris gets up in the morning, which is surprising given how hungover he must have been, but maybe not that surprising given how embarrassed he must have been. He hasn’t texted or left a note either, but Kris tries not to let it bother him.

He finally gets a text from Anthony a couple of days later.

 _Ok I’m really sorry if I grossed you out, but I promise I’m a much better kisser sober_.

He follows it up with a smirking emoji.

Kris practically falls off his chair.

He takes a few minutes to compose himself, pacing his apartment and trying to put together the best words to text back. _Be cool, Kris_. But Kris has never been cool, and this is a lot harder than it looks.

Finally he types out five words and hits send.

 _Come over and prove it_.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on the tumblr [here](https://on-a-kiss-god-knows.tumblr.com/).


End file.
